8o 
THE FERN PARADISE. 
Arrived at the top of the hill, you have in front 
a park gate, leading to somebody’s mansion, and 
two turnings for choice, one directly to the right, 
the other directly to the left. Both are charming, 
but the one to the right is irresistible. The left 
turning is a road ; the right one is a lane. No 
fern-hunter who might reach this turning-point, 
when out for a saunter, would hesitate for one 
moment. The “ lane ” at its entrance is wider than 
the “ road.” On the left a grassy hedge-bank, 
over-topped by arching trees, which grow out of 
it, and bending forward, fling their green tops 
across the whole width of the pathway. On the 
right also a grassy hedge-bank topped by bushes 
— stunted but picturesque growths of the elder, the 
hawthorn, and the elm. A grassy carpeting under 
our feet, except where sacrilegious carts have 
made “ruts,” and occasional foot-passengers have 
worn a narrow path. Moss-covered tree trunks, 
and inviting forms of fern-life, which crowd the 
hedge-banks ; but ferns which are tender in 
growth, and small in size. From the hedge-banks 
shoot out the splendid flowers of the fox-glove, 
